


Magic Man

by lahdolphin



Series: A Very Potter Haikyuu!! [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahdolphin/pseuds/lahdolphin
Summary: Oikawa is named the most desirable wizard in France. Iwaizumi is not impressed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I write all of these HP-AU fics so they can be read as stand-alone stories. At this point in the series, Iwaizumi is a werewolf and he has lost his right leg in an accident. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are twenty-nine.

_WHAM!_

The owl ran into the penthouse window with a horrible bang and an even worse sound that came from its beak. It reminded Iwaizumi of that sound Oikawa made when they had been ice-skating on that frozen lake and the ice broke beneath him. Iwaizumi certainly didn’t think he would hear that sound again, especially since Oikawa swore off ice-skating, but apparently owls could make the same panicked, startled shout if they flew into a window at full speed.

“Stupid bird,” Iwaizumi muttered as he stood up and hurried to the window.

He cracked it open and stuck his head out, looking around for the owl and hoping it didn’t fall all the way down to the street below. As Iwaizumi looked, the owl landed on top of his head, mail dangling in front of Iwaizumi’s face. Oikawa was not going to believe any of this, was he?

Iwaizumi sighed and carefully ducked his head back inside, bringing the bird with him. The owl jumped off his head and landed on the table, dropping the mail. Iwaizumi scratched under its chin.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asked. The owl nipped at his finger. He figured that was a _yes_. “Want anything to eat before you go?” Another nip to his finger and then the owl was out the window.

Iwaizumi shut the window, grabbed the mail, and returned to his spot at the kitchen counter where he had been eating breakfast before the mail owl tried to smash through the penthouse windows.

The mail was the usual affair with the daily paper, a letter from Oikawa’s nephew, some fashion and beauty magazines Oikawa either read or was featured in, and a Quidditch magazine they both read. But when Iwaizumi got to the bottom of the pile, he saw a magazine he knew Oikawa did not read. Oikawa was on the cover, though, which was probably why they were sent a copy.

 _Magic Man_ was a French magazine directed at both witches and wizards, though some issues, like this month’s, were obviously more suited for straight women. It was their yearly Most Desirable Wizards issue and Oikawa, according to the text in the corner, was the most desirable wizard in France.

Iwaizumi was not impressed.

Without looking inside the magazine, he finished his breakfast and made his way to the sofa. He had the day off, but there was still a stack of reports on the coffee table that he had to read before the day was done.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi had just finished signing off on the last report and was stretching his arms up over his head when a green puff of smoke came out of the fireplace. After dusting the remaining floo powder and soot from his clothes, Oikawa stepped into their penthouse.

“Welcome home,” Iwaizumi said, lowering his arms. “How’d that thing go?”

Oikawa chuckled and began to wander towards the kitchen. “That _thing_ was nice. We had a bunch of kids come and fly on our brooms with us. It ran a bit longer than expected so we didn’t get to practice. I signed the most autographs, though!”

“It’s not a competition,” Iwaizumi said, pushing his work to the other side of the coffee table. “Why did they do it in winter? Isn’t it freezing out?”

“We used some indoor Pitch.”

Oikawa came back from the kitchen a moment later with a glass of water and that crappy magazine with his face on the cover, _Magic Man._ He set the water on the coffee table and then sat on the sofa next to Iwaizumi, his legs folded underneath him.

“Did you look at it?” Oikawa asked.

“No.”

Oikawa pouted. “Why not? I'm on the cover. See?" He pointed at the picture of him.

“If I had to read every magazine you’re in, I would never have time for anything else.”

“I saw the manuscript and layout before they published it—the editor is a fan of mine and let me see.” Oikawa’s voice was casual as he flipped through the magazine, but Iwaizumi knew he was eager. He liked to show off, especially to Iwaizumi, even after all these years. “They list my most desirable traits, which makes me feel a bit objectified, but the interview was much better. Can you guess what traits they listened?”

Iwaizumi snorted. Oikawa always liked his little games, thinking of them as some type of twisted foreplay. Oikawa’s flirting and advances were not subtle at all.

“How you’re arrogant and never shut up?” Iwaizumi suggested. When Oikawa made an over dramatic hurt expression that was not real, Iwaizumi grinned and went on, “Or maybe how you’re ‘mature’ now that you’re getting old?”

“You’re older than me, Iwa-chan.”

“They probably mentioned that you’ve had one of longest careers as a player and captain in the history of professional Quidditch.”

“They used the word ‘successful.’” Oikawa tossed the magazine onto the coffee table, seemingly bored with it. Having fun with the banter as well, he said, “But you’re still calling me old, aren’t you?”

Iwaizumi was still grinning. “Did they mention how you always wear gloves when you touch raw meat because you hate the way it feels?”

With a straight, falsely innocent face, Oikawa said, “I don’t touch your meat with gloves.”

Iwaizumi lost his composure. He laughed loudly, closing his eyes and curling forward with the force of it.

He began to open his eyes to ask what they were going to do for dinner. Instead of seeing Oikawa laughing, he saw Oikawa shift on the sofa next to him. Then he felt a pair of large hands pressing against the front of his shoulders, pushing his back to the back of the sofa. Iwaizumi watched with rapt attention as Oikawa straddled him, swinging his legs over Iwaizumi’s thighs with a grace that Iwaizumi could never mimic.

One of the things on that stupid magazine’s list better have been “sex appeal.” If it wasn’t, the magazine was even worse than Iwaizumi thought.

“I think they should have listed that I get turned on when hot old guys laugh at my jokes,” Oikawa said with a teasing smile. “Don’t you agree, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi’s hands naturally settled onto Oikawa’s body, one at his hip and the other on the side of his firm thigh.

“I don’t know how that makes you desirable,” Iwaizumi said. “I think it makes you easy.”

“You don’t seem to be complaining, though.”

Oikawa sunk down onto him, his weight warm and comfortable, and looped his arms loosely around Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi’s chest tightened up and he inhaled sharply as Oikawa began to play with the hair on the back of his head.  

God, Oikawa was sexy. Iwaizumi still didn’t understand how Oikawa could be cracking jokes one second and be dripping in sex appeal the next. How his eyes could go bright with humor to dark with lust. How his body fit just right in Iwaizumi’s lap with no effort at all.

Iwaizumi accelerated Oikawa’s little game by leaning forward and kissing him firmly on the mouth. Oikawa’s lips were soft and parted easily, his tongue meeting Iwaizumi’s at the junction of their lips. Iwaizumi slipped his hand from Oikawa's hip up under his shirt, dragging his nails lightly against the thin skin of Oikawa's side. Oikawa let out a soft sound that sent a rush of blood to Iwaizumi’s quickly hardening cock.

Oikawa dragged his lips away and kissed from Iwaizumi’s cheek to his jaw. He began to make his way to Iwaizumi’s neck, but Iwaizumi intercepted him and kissed him again.

Iwaizumi could spend an eternity kissing Oikawa and never be bored. Oikawa did everything, even kissing, with passion and dramatic flare, like rolling his hips so their groins ground against each other and moaning against Iwaizumi’s mouth when Iwaizumi slid a hand to his damn near perfect ass. Oikawa kissed with his entire body until Iwaizumi felt lost in it. Even after all these years, he would never get over kissing Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa pressed down against Iwaizumi’s groin while threading his fingers up into Iwaizumi’s hair, his nails dragging against his scalp. He caught Iwaizumi’s bottom lip between his teeth with a playful grin and tugged away.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed against Iwaizumi’s lips. “Can you guess what the most desirable wizard in France wants?”

Oikawa began kissing to his jaw again, but he did not move down to Iwaizumi's neck.

“If you want me to suck your dick, just ask," Iwaizumi said. 

“Do I need to rinse your mouth out with soap, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa chuckled and moved his lips to Iwaizumi’s ear. His voice was deep but smooth when he whispered, “Will you suck my dick after I eat you out?”

Fucking hell. Oikawa was going to be the death of him.

Iwaizumi turned his head to kiss Oikawa again, harsher than before. He heard Oikawa breathe in sharply through his nose as he kissed back, or tried to. Iwaizumi knew he was being a little rough, a little messier with his tongue than Oikawa liked, but Oikawa just drove him crazy when he did shit like this. He squeezed Oikawa's ass through his pants and tugged him forward so Oikawa's ass settled right on top of Iwaizumi's groin.

Oikawa—damn him—broke the kiss. He smiled and tugged on Iwaizumi’s shirt. “So eager! Clothes first, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa stepped out of Iwaizumi’s lap and began to strip as well. By the time Iwaizumi had taken off his shirt, Oikawa was already down to his boxers. He said being a model meant needing to change quickly. Iwaizumi didn't care how Oikawa learned to undress faster than a stripper, but it was something he took advantage of.

Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s hips, tugged him forward, and mouthed at his half-hard cock through his underwear. Oikawa moaned and threaded a hand into Iwaizumi’s hair, holding him there gently. He licked at the head through the thin fabric and sucked, leaving a damp spot in wake of his lips. Iwaizumi could smell Oikawa’s scent, still heavy and thick from a day on the Pitch, and if he wasn’t hard before, he was now.

He moved his hands from Oikawa's hips around to his back, dropping them below the tight waistband of Oikawa's underwear and kneading the flesh of his ass as he kissed up and down Oikawa's length. Iwaizumi felt Oikawa’s cock twitch in interest, but Oikawa still pushed him away.

“You first,” Oikawa said, a little more breathless than he was before. 

“You’re usually selfish,” Iwaizumi replied, reaching down to undo his pants.

“I am being selfish. I like watching you lose it. And today, you’re going to spoil me rotten, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa both worked to tug off Iwaizumi’s pants, revealing the thick erection straining against his underwear and the prosthetic on his right leg. Oikawa licked his lips and then glanced at the arm at the end of the sofa.

Iwaizumi guessed what he wanted and maneuvered himself so he was leaning over the arm of the sofa, his knees propped on the cushions. Oikawa reached out and snapped the waist of Iwaizumi’s underwear against his skin.

When Iwaizumi glared, Oikawa smiled, said, “Sorry, sorry,” in that voice that meant he was clearly _not_ sorry, and then pulled the underwear down to Iwaizumi’s knees to reveal his hard cock and the swell of his ass.

“Your leg okay with this position?” Oikawa asked, rubbing up and down Iwaizumi’s right thigh, his fingers just tracing over where his prosthetic began near his knee.

“Yeah.”

“Let me know if that changes.”

Oikawa leaned across Iwaizumi’s back and kissed his neck, trailing down his spine, his soft lips and tongue dragging lightly across his flushed skin. He lingered at the base of Iwaizumi’s shoulder blades, making Iwaizumi shiver with anticipation. Then he felt Oikawa’s hands cup the cheeks of his ass and spread them, and Iwaizumi knew he was going to be wrecked by the end of this.

Oikawa’s tongue reached the crack of his ass and Iwaizumi jerked back against Oikawa’s face. Oikawa kept moving down, but he retracted his tongue so it did not touch Iwaizumi’s entrance. Instead, Oikawa’s mouth and tongue went lower to suck at his balls.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi groaned in a mixture of frustration and pleasure.

Oikawa kissed the back of his thigh. He could feel Oikawa fucking grinning against his skin before he went back to lapping and sucking at his balls. Oikawa didn’t even reach around to touch Iwaizumi’s cock, his hands firmly squeezing and spreading Iwaizumi in an obscene way as he laved at Iwaizumi’s perineum and balls. Iwaizumi bit his bottom lip and moaned loudly when Oikawa tongued gently at his sac.

Oikawa’s lips pulled back, kissing up his skin to the curve of his ass, kissing him everywhere but his entrance. Iwaizumi felt his cock swell, harder than before and aching to be touched.

When Oikawa finally felt satisfied that he had teased Iwaizumi enough, he pressed the wide flat of his tongue against his entrance and then circled the rim with the tip of his tongue. Iwaizumi dropped his head and moaned, felt his ring of muscles twitch involuntarily as Oikawa began to slowly eat him out.

“Fuck, _yes_.” His voice was rough and breathy with want and arousal. “Just like that.”

Oikawa moaned against him, eating him out in earnest, until Iwaizumi’s thighs were shaking and his cock was leaking without being touched. Being rimmed felt good—so, so good—but it was never enough to push him over the edge. It brought him to the cliff and left him hanging, keeping him suspended in frustrating arousal. His entire body was tense and hot and all he could think was that he wanted more, _needed_ more to be pushed over the edge and come. It drove him crazy. 

Oikawa pulled back, his lips red and shiny with spit, and ran his thumb from Iwaizumi’s balls up to his entrance. He pulled at the rim before pressing against it with just enough pressure for Iwaizumi to feel it. Iwaizumi rocked back but Oikawa made sure his thumb didn't slip inside. 

“I want your honest opinion, Iwa-chan. Do you think I’m good at this?”

Iwaizumi wanted to kick him. Oikawa was a pest at the worst possible times. It was endearing sometimes, but not _now_. He had half a mind to kick Oikawa for stopping.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I want to know your honest opinion,” Oikawa said, faking innocence and curiosity because he knew damn well just how good he was at this. “Am I good at this?”

Iwaizumi really just wanted to be done with this stupid little banter. He wanted more than what Oikawa was giving—more than the teasing press of his thumb and his eloquent, annoying dirty talk.

Oikawa didn’t wait for his response this time and said, “This part of you seems to think so. You’re all nice and loose. Do you think I should call up the editor and tell them to add ‘eats ass like a sex god’ to my desirable trait list?”

“I think a sex god would have made me come by now. Besides, the women that read that trashy magazine would be happier to hear you eat pussy.”

Oikawa rubbed his thumb back and forth before moving his hand and pressing his middle finger inside, right down to the last knuckle with little resistance. It wasn’t the full, satisfying feeling Iwaizumi was aching for, but it was a very good start.

Desperate for more, Iwaizumi reached back behind him, grabbed a fistful of Oikawa’s hair, and rolled his hips back. Oikawa was a tease but he also knew when Iwaizumi wanted him to stop fucking around and get to work; this was one of those moments.

Oikawa kissed the soft flesh of his cheeks before licking a hot, wet strip back to the entrance where his finger was buried. Oikawa kissed and tongued at his rim as he added a second finger, crooking them straight towards Iwaizumi’s prostate. Iwaizumi let out a sharp _fuck_ and curled his fingers tighter into Oikawa’s hair.

“Feels so fucking good, Tooru,” Iwaizumi moaned as his thighs shook.

Iwaizumi both hated and loved that he could feel Oikawa’s grin.

 

* * *

 

The magazine sat on the coffee table for over a week before Iwaizumi picked it up again. He wondered if Oikawa wanted to get it framed. They had several framed magazines and newspaper articles around the penthouse—the most important ones, like when his team won the Quidditch World Cup—but most sat in boxes in a closet. Was Oikawa really going to frame this piece of garbage?

Iwaizumi sat down on the sofa with a sour expression and flipped through the magazine’s glossy pages. There were articles about skin care, annoyingly elegant ads for cologne or perfume that made no sense, and smaller articles on the other 49 of the “50 Most Desirable Wizards in France.”

Oikawa was at the centerfold with a four-page spread. Typical.

Iwaizumi didn’t recognize any of the pictures of Oikawa. They must have done a photo shoot for the spread. It was this sometime back in summer, judging by the length of Oikawa’s hair. He always kept his hair shorter in summer.

It was the usual "Model Oikawa" poses: one goofy one with him smiling in his glasses, another with him in a tailored set of fashionable robes, one of him in his Quidditch gear, and one half naked with his hands running through his hair while he gazed at the camera like he wanted to fuck the person behind it. 

Okay. So that last one was not typical but it was a look Iwaizumi knew very well.

Iwaizumi tossed the magazine back onto the coffee table and grabbed the remote for the television to check the weather. Hopefully no storms were coming in, or his leg would not be happy with him.

He heard the front door unlock and the shuffle of paper bags as Oikawa walked in, arms full of groceries. He heard the bags get set down on the counter and then the cabinets being opened as Oikawa put the groceries away.

“Is this today’s mail?” Oikawa asked.

Iwaizumi looked back into the kitchen and saw the pile of letters Oikawa had picked up. “Yeah. I didn’t look through it yet.”

Oikawa came over to the sofa, lying down with his head pillowed in Iwaizumi’s lap and his legs crossed, and began to go through the mail.

“Tobio sent a Christmas card,” Oikawa said lightly, maybe a little bored. “Looks like he’s expecting again.”

He held it up and Iwaizumi plucked it from his fingers.

There was a picture of Kageyama Tobio with a beautiful woman at his side, her belly swollen. Kageyama was holding a tiny baby and looking at it like he did a Quaffle, with this look of total awe and happiness. A little girl, a few years old now, was flying in and out of frame on a tiny broomstick.

“I don’t think he’s going to stop until he has enough kids to make his own Quidditch team,” Oikawa said, laughing.

Iwaizumi smiled and handed the card back to Oikawa, who put it to the back of the pile he was sorting through. Iwaizumi put a hand on Oikawa’s head, petting through his hair absentmindedly.

“We should have them over for dinner again,” Iwaizumi said.

“Hmm,” Oikawa replied, not really an answer.

The last time they had Kageyama over, his daughter had puked all over Oikawa’s favorite sweater. Iwaizumi smiled a little wider.

“My team manager sent one too,” Oikawa said.

“Are you really going to narrate the mail?”

Oikawa tilted his head back to look back up at Iwaizumi. “Yes, I am. You should listen because it’s me talking.” He kissed the palm of Iwaizumi’s hand then tilted his head back. “Keep petting, Iwa-chan, it felt nice.”

Iwaizumi sighed, threading his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. Oikawa made a tiny, content noise.

“Oh, Takeru sent a note,” Oikawa said, unfolding the piece of paper. “Looks like he can come this Saturday. He’s bringing his girlfriend, too. You haven’t met her, have you? Cute blonde muggle girl?”

“This Saturday?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa gasped dramatically. “Iwa-chan! How dare you!”

Iwaizumi suddenly had the feeling that he had forgotten something very important. It wasn’t the full moon—that was on Christmas Eve of all days, which meant—oh.

“We rescheduled your family’s Christmas Eve dinner to this Saturday because of the full moon,” Iwaizumi said dumbly.

“And?” Oikawa prompted.

There was more?

“Uh…”

“It’s our turn to host. My sister did last year, and my parents the year before that, so it’s our turn.” Oikawa tilted his head back again. “I can’t believe you forgot. After all those times you called me stupid. Are you sure you’re not the stupid one, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi pinched Oikawa’s nose and Oikawa kicked his legs up into the air.

“Hey!” Oikawa shouted, his voice higher than before. "Are you trying to kill me, Iwa-chan? Is this your plan, suffocating me to death? It's very unoriginal." 

Iwaizumi released his nose.

 

* * *

 

They spent the week slowly stocking the refrigerator with food and ingredients for the upcoming annual Oikawa Family Not-Christmas-Eve Christmas Eve dinner. Oikawa’s parents would be coming, along with his sister and her husband, and Takeru would be coming with his girlfriend. It was a small affair, but it was one of the few times his entire family got together. For as long as Iwaizumi could remember, he was always welcome at the annual dinner.

One afternoon several days before the dinner, they went out to shop for gifts.

Oikawa smiled and tangled a scarf around Iwaizumi’s neck, and they bundled up in their muggled-styled winter coats—Oikawa’s a fashionable wool pea coat, Iwaizumi’s a thick jacket that swished like a child’s snow pants. With their hands deep in their warm pockets, they took the elevator down to the first floor and walked out onto the streets of muggle Paris. It was cold and the sky was thick with clouds, but it would not rain or snow. Iwaizumi’s leg ached horribly whenever a storm was coming and his leg felt fine.

Oikawa had bought the penthouse a year after being signed onto the French Quidditch Team. Surprisingly, there were no magical connections to muggle Paris, which meant Oikawa could live a quieter life without having his photograph taken every time he went out for groceries. They could run in the morning without being spotted, and hold hands without worrying about the magical press. Paris was also full of all the things Oikawa loved—fashion, museums, and people. 

They already had a gift for Oikawa’s brother-in-law. Every year, Oikawa gave him a season pass to the World Cup games. That only left Oikawa’s parents, his sister, and his nephew and his girlfriend.

Unfortunately, Iwaizumi hated shopping. Oikawa, of course, loved it.

Oikawa dragged on Iwaizumi’s elbow, pulling him into a fancy-looking store. “This one,” Oikawa said. “I want to get my mom a necklace. She lost her pearls on that trip to Australia and she says nothing else matches her navy robes.”

Iwaizumi grunted and followed Oikawa into the store.

High-end jewelry stores were a strange thing. Oikawa looked right at place with his fashionable coat and his boots that cost more than every piece of clothing Iwaizumi owned combined, excluding the gifts from Oikawa that Iwaizumi hardly wore because they were so damn nice (and expensive). Oikawa knew what the terms meant, how to talk to the employees, and what cut gems looked best on people. If Iwaizumi ever admitted that he could not tell the difference between a real and fake diamond, or silver and white gold, he was sure that Oikawa would break up with him or at least threaten to.

Iwaizumi followed Oikawa like a dumb child as he looked at strings of white pearls for his mother. After looking for nearly ten minutes, he decided to look at something with three rows at different heights.

Oikawa modeled the necklace, looking at himself in the mirror before turning to Iwaizumi and asking, “What do you think, Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa touched the pearls gently, running his fingers across them and looking coyly at Iwaizumi.

“Those look fine,” Iwaizumi said. “I think your mom will like them.”

Oikawa smiled, turned back to the sales woman, and said, “We’ll take these.” Oikawa let the woman helping them take off the necklace and then looked at Iwaizumi. “Can you pay while I look around?”

Iwaizumi frowned and patted the pack pocket of his ratty old jeans. He felt his wallet there.

“Yeah, sure.”

Oikawa smiled and hurried off to look around.

While Iwaizumi decided which credit card they were putting this on, Oikawa leaned over the display at the end of the counter. He had a serious, contemplative expression on his face. It was like the one he got when he was picking out fresh cucumbers, but slightly different. 

Iwaizumi finished paying, took the bag that was handed to him, and then walked up to Oikawa.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa jumped. “Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi pressed up against his back, looking into the counter where he saw dozens of golden rings, most simple in design. They all looked the same but there had to be something different about them because their prices ranged greatly.

“Rings? Did you want to get your sister one or something?”

Oikawa smiled. “I just thought it might be nice for a change!”

“Does she wear rings besides her wedding band and engagement ring?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I can’t remember...” Oikawa said. “We better stick to the plan and get her perfume.”

Iwaizumi shrugged and pulled away from Oikawa’s back. “You know I always let you pick the presents for your family.”

Oikawa grabbed onto Iwaizumi’s arm as they walked out the store like they were an old-timey couple walking through the town on a snowy night.

“Remember the last time I let you pick a gift? You got my dad a cactus!”

“Cacti are nice. We have a lot at home.” Oikawa snickered. Iwaizumi frowned. “What's wrong with giving someone a cactus?”

Oikawa was full blown laughing now and Iwaizumi had no idea way. It had been four years since the Cactus Incident (Oikawa insisted it be capitalized; he actually, verbally said so) and Oikawa could just not let it go. The gift had been fine. Oikawa’s father said he liked it very much and it sat in their kitchen to this day.

Oikawa pressed closer to Iwaizumi’s side. Iwaizumi would dare say Oikawa was snuggling up against him. Iwaizumi sighed, enjoyed Oikawa’s warmth pressed to close to him, and wondered what the next store would be.

 

* * *

 

They bought a bottle of scotch for Oikawa’s father that was older than both of them, a nice crystal decanter for Takeru (“He’s at the age where he should at least pretend to be an adult,” Oikawa said), and a flowery perfume in a dainty bottle for Oikawa’s sister. Oikawa only sprayed Iwaizumi with perfume six times, which was an improvement from last year’s ten. Iwaizumi was sure he smelled sickly sweet, but Oikawa was still holding onto Iwaizumi’s arm. Iwaizumi wondered if he did that so Iwaizumi had to carry the bags.

The last gift was the hardest to pick. Oikawa had only met Takeru’s girlfriend twice and did not know her that well. They decided on something practical.

There was a small store that sold hand knitted goods. The store was warm and filled with scarves made of exotic wool, winter hats of all different styles, and blankets of all sizes. Oikawa spent a long time looking at the scarves, wrapping a few around his own neck before putting them back. Iwaizumi didn’t know what was wrong with them and then wondered if Oikawa was looking for himself or Takeru’s girlfriend.

They skipped right past the hats to the blankets. They spent several minutes looking at the shelves before Oikawa became distracted.

He gasped and picked up one of the display items and bundled it in his arms. It was a large, dark mustard yellow blanket made of thick wool that looked incredibly bulky and soft. He wrapped it around his back and the top of his head, and the blanket was so _massive_ that all Iwaizumi saw was his boyfriend’s face and part of his hair.

"Dumb ass!" Iwaizumi hissed. "Put that back. You're not supposed to just grab it."

"It's so soft," Oikawa said, completely enraptured.

Oikawa had that dumb smile. The one smile he got when Iwaizumi caught him with one of his seaweed facemasks on, his hair wrapped up in a towel. The one he got when they spent Sundays throwing cake batter and frosting at each other because Oikawa agreed to bring cupcakes to his team if they won their match. The one he got when he saw Iwaizumi the day after a full moon.

That stupid, idiotic smile made Iwaizumi’s chest so tight and his stomach so knotted. Warmth spread out from his core until Iwaizumi almost felt like he was dying. He just had to kiss Oikawa—kiss him despite the facemask, kiss him despite the cake batter on his nose, kiss him despite the ache and exhaustion of his transformation.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said, his cheeks a soft red. “We have to get this one. We can put it on the bed instead of the duvet. What do you think?”

Iwaizumi stepped forward, tugged on the blanket so it hid their faces from the staff at the front of the store, and kissed Oikawa gently on the lips. Oikawa made a small sound and wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, the blanket falling over Iwaizumi’s head and blocking out the light. Iwaizumi continued to kiss him gently, opening his lips but not using his tongue. Despite trying out different perfumes at the store, Oikawa did not smell fruity or flowery. He smelled like his cologne and soap—musky and vaguely smokey. 

It physically ached to stop kissing him.

“Let’s buy it,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa smiled again and _damn it_ , Iwaizumi was a weak man. If Oikawa hadn’t stepped away, Iwaizumi would have kissed him again.

“We still need to get Takeru’s girlfriend something,” Oikawa said, walking back to the shelf of blankets, still wrapped tightly. He looked like a child as he dragged the blanket around the store. 

“Are you two going to buy that or not?” the girl at the front counter asked. “Because you really shouldn’t be using it for weird stuff if you’re not.”

“We’re buying it!” Oikawa shouted back happily.

Iwaizumi put up his hand in apology and then walked up besides Oikawa, who wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi, blanket and all.

 

* * *

 

They replaced their duvet with the large blanket, which kept them so warm that night they did not need to use their usual heating charm.

Iwaizumi’s idea of a good morning was a long jog, a good cup of coffee, and watching the morning news while he reviewed his case files. Oikawa’s idea of a good morning was sneaking under the covers and blowing Iwaizumi until he woke up.

Okay, well, maybe that wasn’t bad morning for Iwaizumi.

Oikawa was underneath the new blanket and between Iwaizumi’s legs. The blanket rested on Oikawa’s back, sliding a little further down with every bob of his head. Iwaizumi tilted his head into his pillow and lost himself in the feeling of Oikawa’s warm mouth on him.

One of Oikawa’s hands ran up Iwaizumi’s inner thigh, raking his nails along the sensitive skin, before gently fondling Iwaizumi’s sac. Oikawa teased and kissed, pulling off from time to time to lick the thick flat of his tongue from base to tip before taking him back into his mouth.

Then Oikawa pressed all the way down, his nose at Iwaizumi’s pelvis, and moaned like he was the one getting his dick sucked at seven in the morning. Iwaizumi felt hair tickling against his stomach, felt Oikawa’s tongue lapping at the base of his cock.

Iwaizumi propped himself up on his elbows and watched. Oikawa’s lips were red and wet and stretched wide around Iwaizumi’s cock. He pulled up and off with an obscene pop, a trail of spit connecting his lips and the tip of Iwaizumi’s cock for a moment. The strand was broken when Oikawa rested his head on Iwaizumi’s thigh and bit his lip.

Iwaizumi reached down and shoved his fingers towards Oikawa’s mouth, prying open his lips. Oikawa moaned and looked up at him.

“Don’t bite yourself, you idiot.”

Oikawa sat up slightly. The blanket slid down further and Iwaizumi’s breath caught in his throat. Oikawa had two fingers inside himself, working them in and out. That was a sight Iwaizumi would _never_ get tired of.

Iwaizumi hoisted Oikawa into his lap so Oikawa was straddling his hips. Oikawa pulled out his fingers and rocked back against Iwaizumi’s erection, sliding it between his cheeks with each slow roll of his hips. The slide was easy with Oikawa's spit on his cock and the lube between his cheeks.

Oikawa was half-hard, his cock hanging down towards Iwaizumi’s stomach. Iwaizumi reached for the lube Oikawa had snuck under the blanket, which now pooled at Iwaizumi’s foot. Iwaizumi slicked his hand and grasped Oikawa, who looked down and watched Iwaizumi’s hand fisting his cock. He watched Iwaizumi tugging down the foreskin with each stroke down, watched his rosy tip poking through the textured ring of Iwaizumi’s fingers, watched the twist of Iwaizumi's wrist that had Oikawa jerking forward.

Oikawa was looking at the scene like he was looking at a piece of art.

“Iwa-chan, hurry up,” Oikawa whined, fucking up into Iwaizumi’s fist. “I want it.”

“So fucking spoiled,” Iwaizumi grumbled, moving his hand off his cock to his hip and squeezing. “If you want it so bad, do it yourself.”

Oikawa moaned. He grabbed the lube and wet his fingers. He reached behind himself, running his fingers over his entrance briefly before he grabbed Iwaizumi, stroking him from root to tip to make sure he was slick. He glanced at Iwaizumi to make sure he was watching then he held onto Iwaizumi’s cock, lining himself up, and lowered himself slowly with a chest-rumbling groan.

Oikawa was so hot and tight, not nearly as stretched as he had wanted Iwaizumi to believe. It took a great amount of will-power to resist thrusting up into Oikawa. The only thing that held him back was the way Oikawa’s face changed as he took Iwaizumi in inch by inch.

Once Iwaizumi was inside, he put his hands on Iwaizumi’s upper chest to steady himself as he sunk down. Oikawa’s cock was the longer of the two of them, but Iwaizumi’s was thicker with a sharp curve upwards. He once told Iwaizumi that the way his cock curved pressed up against his prostate when they were face to face, like how they were now.

When Oikawa bottomed out, his jaw dropped and he slowly closed his eyes. He moaned loudly as he began to rock back and forth, grinding on Iwaizumi’s cock. It felt so good that Iwaizumi could have come just like that, deep in Oikawa’s ass with Oikawa rocking against him. But then Oikawa lifted himself up and slammed back down and Iwaizumi could only moan.

The flush on Oikawa’s face traveled down to his chest. His cock was now a dark red and bounced as Oikawa began to fuck himself on Iwaizumi. And Oikawa knew exactly what Iwaizumi liked. He moved his hands from Iwaizumi’s chest and leaned back slightly. He balanced himself with a hand on Iwaizumi’s thigh and then grabbed his cock and balls with the other just so Iwaizumi could see where he was sliding in and out.

“That stupid magazine should have used pictures of you like this,” Iwaizumi said. “God, Tooru, you’re perfect like this.”

Oikawa’s breath came out in hard, short pants. Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was surprised because Oikawa didn’t instantly agree that he was perfect. Instead, he said, “You—you read it?”

“Just looked at the pictures.”

If Oikawa wanted to keep talking, Iwaizumi didn’t give him the chance. He pressed on Oikawa’s stomach, pushing him further back and deeper onto his cock. Oikawa’s head fell back and his jaw fell open as he gasped and shook.

“So deep,” Oikawa said, sounding very far gone. He couldn't even keep his eyes open, or his jaw shut. 

Oikawa shifted forward again. He ran his hands up over Iwaizumi’s chest and Iwaizumi felt his fingers shaking. Iwaizumi grabbed one of Oikawa's shaking hands, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed his palm until it was wet, all while Oikawa continued to ride him hard. Oikawa’s moan nearly sounded like a sob.

Iwaizumi pushed Oikwa's slick hand down to his erection, wanting to see Oikawa touch himself, but Oikawa made a pained noise and shook his head. Iwaizumi halted.

“Don’t wanna come yet. Feels so good. Don’t wanna stop.”

His words were coming out rushed and hurried. He was so close. Iwaizumi could see it, could feel it in the way his body gripped his cock.

Iwaizumi grabbed onto Oikawa’s hips then slid both of his hands back to spread his cheeks. He thrust up into him and Oikawa made that desperate noise again as he curled forward against Iwaizumi’s chest, his head pressed into the pillow next to Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi turned his head and nosed at Oikawa’s hair. Oikawa jerked with every thrust, his cock rubbing between their stomachs, his beautiful voice muffled by the pillow. Was he biting it? Iwaizumi couldn’t see. God he wanted to see.

Oikawa caved and reached down between their bodies with one hand, grasping his hard cock with a loose fist.

“Oh god,” Oikawa gasped. 

Iwaizumi shushed him, but Oikawa could not be quieted. Oikawa liked to talk, liked to put on a show. He was a drama queen. Oikawa talked like a porn star sometimes. But he only ever got truly, honestly loud in bed when he was about to come.

Oikawa stopped rocking back, the pleasure too much, but Iwaizumi kept up his pace, pushing Oikawa over the edge. He heard Oikawa gasp his name—his real name, a broken _Hajime_ that cut off into a grunt. Then he felt Oikawa shake from the inside out, felt his come hitting hot and wet between their stomachs.

Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa by the hips and tossed him onto his back. He smeared Oikawa’s cum across his abdomen, watching the way the light made it shine, feeling the hard muscles of Oikawa’s stomach fluttering beneath his touch. Iwaizumi felt his cock twitch. He was _so_ close. Oikawa spread his legs slightly, inviting Iwaizumi between them, and that was all Iwaizumi needed.

He made sure there was a pillow under Oikawa’s head then pressed Oikawa’s legs to his chest and pressed back inside. Oikawa moaned loudly, grasping at Iwaizumi’s chest and shoulders as Iwaizumi began to fuck him fast and hard. The sound of their skin slapping together was almost as loud as Oikawa’s broken moans.

Oikawa’s thighs were shaking like leaves. Iwaizumi wondered if it was the position or the fact that Iwaizumi was fucking him after he just came, his entire body over sensitive.

“Fuck. Tooru, I’m gonna come.“

Oikawa grabbed haphazardly at Iwaizumi’s hair, pulled him down, and kissed him hard. Iwaizumi tensed as he came deep inside of Oikawa, who kissed down to Iwaizumi’s neck as Iwaizumi groaned and cursed. Oikawa thrust back against Iwaizumi, rolling his hips to fuck Iwaizumi through his orgasm. 

Oikawa tightened around him as he thrust a few more times, emptying himself before pulling out. He dropped Oikawa’s legs and watched as another drop of cum leaked from Oikawa’s cock. Iwaizumi was tempted to bend over and lick him clean, but Oikawa got so sensitive after coming. Fucking him like that was already pushing it; usually Oikawa shoved him away and told him to jerk off.

So instead he collapsed next to Oikawa and struggled to catch his breath.

They stayed there for several moments just breathing as they came down from their highs.

“Let me get my wand and I’ll clean you out,” Iwaizumi said eventually, peppering his neck with gentle kisses.

Oikawa made a content noise and turned his head slightly, pressing his nose into Iwaizumi’s hair and inhaling deeply.

“I’ll do it in the shower,” Oikawa said. “You don't usually come inside and I like feeling you in me.”

“God, Tooru…”

Oikawa smiled. He brought a hand up and ran it through Iwaizumi’s hair, leaving it at the curved base of his skull. “Just stay here for another minute.”

Iwaizumi tossed an arm across Oikawa’s waist, urging him closer. “I’ll give you two minutes.”

Oikawa chuckled. “You’re going to spoil me, Iwa-chan.”

“After that, you deserve to be spoiled.”

“Hmm. Did I make you feel good?”

Iwaizumi was tempted to shove his fingers back into Oikawa, to fuck his cum out of him, and make him feel for himself. But Oikawa had had enough for one morning so instead, Iwaizumi left a long kiss on the crook between his shoulder and neck.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Iwaizumi murmured.

Oikawa smiled, his fingers playing gently with Iwaizumi’s hair without moving his hand. Iwaizumi could have fallen back to sleep in Oikawa’s embrace. He almost did before Oikawa sat up and shrieked, “Is the blanket okay?”

Iwaizumi rolled onto his stomach and groaned into the pillow. “You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

Oikawa smacked him hard on the ass. “Rude!”

Iwaizumi twisted back to grab him and pin him to the bed, but Oikawa was quicker. He jumped to his feet and off the bed, rushing into the bathroom with his ass clenched tight to keep Iwaizumi's cum from dripping to floor. Iwaizumi lied back down, pulled a pillow under his chest, and wondered how long he had to lay there before his alarm went off.

 

* * *

 

On Saturday morning, Iwaizumi woke up with Oikawa clinging to his side like a child. His leg was tossed over Iwaizumi’s hip in some ridiculous pose that could not possibly be comfortable and his head was tucked in under Iwaizumi’s chin. The blanket, which had not been moved off the bed despite being in the “splash zone” as Oikawa called it, was tangled around their legs.

There were no alarms blaring to wake them up and remind them to get to work or to go on their morning runs. It was so quiet that Iwaizumi could listen to Oikawa breathe.

“What time is it?” Iwaizumi grumbled eventually.

Oikawa nosed his throat before pulling back slightly to prop himself up on an elbow and look over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand then collapsed back against the bed, lying on one of Iwaizumi’s arms. His face was higher now, closer to Iwaizumi’s.

“A little before ten. I haven’t slept this long in years.” Oikawa brought up one of his hands and ran it through the front of Iwaizumi’s hair.

“Are you playing with my hair because I need a haircut?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa shook his head. “You don’t need one yet, but soon. You look like a wet dog when you let your hair grow out. I’m just looking at your gray hairs.”

Oikawa’s fingers ran so gently through his hair once more. Iwaizumi kept his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling.

“We’re not that old, are we?” Oikawa asked. “Am I going to go gray soon too?” He sounded awfully concerned.

Iwaizumi swatted his hand away. He opened his eyes and saw Oikawa staring at him with wide, wet eyes. There was a bit of crust on the corner of his eyes that Iwaizumi was tempted to brush away. There were no lines on Oikawa’s face, no signs of his age, but he did look legitimately worried about his hair turning gray.

“We’re not old,” Iwaizumi said seriously, a little exasperated. “And my hair is not gray. I have four gray hairs.”

Oikawa pushed back Iwaizumi’s hair. “I count _at least_ six.”

Iwaizumi glowered, annoyed, which made Oikawa laugh for some reason. Oikawa smiled goofily and then stretched out his neck to peck a kiss to Iwaizumi’s lips.

“It’s okay that you’re an old man, Iwa-chan. You’ll look nice with salt and pepper hair. But with me at your side, looking as youthful and radiant as ever, you’ll look like quite the gold digger.”

Iwaizumi turned his face into the pillow and groaned. “It’s too early to deal with you.”

“It’s almost ten!”

“Let me rephrase that: it’s always too early to deal with you.”

Iwaizumi cracked open his eyes and saw Oikawa pouting.

“Will you still love me when I’m not longer young and beautiful, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi frowned in annoyance. “What kind of stupid question is that?”

Knock-knock.

Both of them jumped, nearly cracking their heads together, and turned to look at the door.

“Uncle Tooru, Uncle Hajime?”

“Takeru?” Iwaizumi called out, shocked.

“Yeah, sorry, I know I’m early. Meg—Megumi, my girlfriend—was getting anxious about meeting the family so I told her we could come early so she wasn’t meeting everyone at once.”

Oikawa sat up quickly, looking down at Iwaizumi. “Don’t let them see me, Iwa-chan. I’m hideous!” Oikawa covered his face with his hands and hurried out of bed, rushing towards the bathroom.

“We’re just going to be in the living room,” Takeru said.

“Give us a few minutes to get dressed,” Iwaizumi replied.

When Iwaizumi put on his leg and got out of bed and joined Oikawa in the bathroom, Oikawa was sitting on the bath mat with his make up mirror. His hair was pushed back with a headband and he had a pair of tweezers as he worked his eyebrows.

“Don’t take too long,” Iwaizumi said as he stepped around Oikawa to reach the shower. He checked to see if his stool was inside then took off his boxers and prosthetic.

“Beauty takes time, Iwa-chan. I guess you wouldn’t know about that.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, sat down, and turned on the water.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa found Takeru, who was a few months short of twenty-two, sitting on the sofa with a blonde girl in an oversized sweater. Takeru had grown into a fine man—tall with dark hair, a handsome smile, and good manners.

Oikawa waved and smiled with ease. Oikawa had such a warm presence when he met people.

“Meg, these are my uncles,” Takeru said. “You’ve already met Tooru. This is my uncle Hajime.”

 _My uncles_. Iwaizumi wondered when he crossed that line in Takeru’s mind, when he became family, when he stopped being the next-door neighbor that his uncle was friends with.

“This is Megumi,” Takeru said. He smiled at his girlfriend, who was clearly nervous.

“It’s good to see you again,” Oikawa said as he sat on the loveseat perpendicular to the sofa. Iwaizumi sat on a nearby armchair. Oikawa was still smiling pleasantly. “How have you been?”

Oikawa easily led the conversation, casually bringing up what he and Iwaizumi did for work, asking how her job as going, and discussing inside jokes she should know before meeting the Oikawa family. She told them how they met—Takeru befriended her older brother at school, a muggle born that luckily didn’t mind his best friend was dating his little sister.

Oikawa was good with people. In secret, he would complain to Iwaizumi that someone’s breath smelled or they were really boring, but he never said it to their face. Unless it was Iwaizumi, Tobio, Ushijima, or…

Okay, maybe he said it to a lot of people.

They went out for lunch to a small bistro with good sandwiches and great coffee. Shortly after they made it back to the penthouse, Oikawa’s parents were walking through the fireplace, having flooed over. Soon after, Oikawa’s sister and her husband arrived.

Oikawa’s father took over the kitchen and began to cook dinner while the rest of them talked and caught up. Takeru kept looking between Iwaizumi or Oikawa. Iwaizumi didn’t notice at first, but Oikawa must have because he grabbed Iwaizumi by the wrist, stood up, and said:

“Takeru, can you come with us for a minute? We have something to show you.”

Iwaizumi was ready to curse out Oikawa (except maybe not because he didn’t want to give Takeru’s girlfriend the wrong impression) because, really, this came out of _nowhere_ , but then Takeru nodded eagerly.

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” Oikawa said as they headed down the one hallway in the penthouse. “What did you want to talk about?”

In the hallway, they were away from the prying eyes of their family, but they could still hear Takeru’s girlfriend laugh at some joke.

“Meg,” Takeru said. “Do you guys like her? I know you’ve met her, Uncle Tooru, but Uncle Hajime?”

“She’s nice,” Iwaizumi said. “Did you really want to talk about something or is Tooru spouting bullshit?”

“I did, actually,” Takeru said. “I’m thinking about asking her to move in with me.”

Oikawa gasped immediately, but it took Iwaizumi a moment to fully process Takeru’s admission. Iwaizumi could remember when Takeru was born, when he got his wand, and when he asked Iwaizumi what spells he used to clean his sheets when he hit puberty (he had been too embarrassed to ask his parents or Oikawa). Takeru always seemed to look up to Iwaizumi both figuratively and literally, and now they were the same height and equal in nearly every way. Maybe Iwaizumi was getting old after all.

Iwaizumi reached out and ruffled his hair the way he used to when Takeru was much younger.

“You must like her a lot, huh?” Iwaizumi said as he drew back his hand.

“I wanted to live with her for a bit before I proposed,” Takeru said.

Oikawa gasped again, more dramatic than ever, and Iwaizumi elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stop that, you dumb ass,” Iwaizumi muttered.

“I didn’t want to get engaged to her, find out we can’t stand being around each other, and then have to tell everyone we broke up.” Takeru rubbed the back of his head. “So when I ask her to move in, I have all intention of marrying her, you know?”

Iwaizumi smiled.

“That’s so bold of you, assuming she’ll say yes!” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi and Takeru both rolled their eyes.

Then Iwaizumi frowned and asked, “Why are you telling us this? I’m glad you’re sharing, but it seems…”

“Weird,” Oikawa said bluntly.

Takeru nodded, like he had been about to get to that. “Well, like I said, I want to marry her and it’s important that she likes my family. _All_ of my family. So I wanted to tell her about you. If she wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t be comfortable being with her.”

Takeru looked pointedly at Iwaizumi, who deepened his frown.

“Uh, Takeru, I think she knows Tooru and I are gay,” Iwaizumi said. “You guys got here when we were in bed. You called us your _uncles_.”

Oikawa put a hand to his face and sighed. “Iwa-chan, you’re so oblivious sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Iwaizumi asked, glaring.

Oikawa lowered his hand, gave Iwaizumi a look with several layers of meaning and emotion, and then said, “He means the werewolf thing.”

Iwaizumi felt his face heat up. That much made more sense. Yet, at the same time, it made little sense at all.

Iwaizumi looked back at Takeru. “I thought she was a muggle. They don’t have any prejudice against werewolves the way witches and wizards do, right?”

“They don’t,” Takeru confirmed. “But I wanted to ask your permission before telling her. It’s… your business and it’s not my right to tell people, even if I think they’ll react a certain way.”

God, Takeru had grown up. At least he had more manners than his uncle.

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi reassured. “Let us know how it goes.”

Takeru smiled, nodded, and then went back to their family.

 _Their_ family, Iwaizumi thought with emphasis. Because he was Oikawa’s family so Oikawa’s family was his, too.

 

* * *

 

They exchanged gifts over dessert and coffee. Oikawa’s brother-in-law was not surprised to see the Quidditch tickets but still smiled and shouted in joy. Everyone was very pleased with the gifts Oikawa had picked out. Oikawa was even kind enough to lie and say they picked out everything together, which was only partly true and everyone probably knew that.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa were given several new types of coffee and various decorations for the penthouse. Oikawa’s parents gave them a framed photo of Iwaizumi and Oikawa when they were younger. They were eight in the photo and had just returned from catching fireflies, the jars lighting up in their hands. Iwaizumi had a few cuts and bruises, probably from running through a field, and Oikawa looked very proud of the small collection of bugs in his jar. 

“I don’t even remember this photo,” Iwaizumi said. “Where did you find this?”

“We were cleaning out the attic,” Oikawa’s mother said. “We gave a copy to your parents, too, Hajime.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi muttered, still looking at the photo.

Oikawa took the picture frame from Iwaizumi, leaning against his shoulder. “We could put it on the mantle above the fireplace.”

Iwaizumi nodded in agreement.

Their conversations dragged on for a little longer before Oikawa’s brother-in-law said they needed to get going to feed the dogs. That was the cue for everyone to begin gathering their things to leave.

“Can I ask?” Oikawa’s sister asked. Her husband also looked eager for some reason. “You haven’t said anything yet, Tooru, and we all thought you would be _dying_ to tell us at dinner, but we’ve been waiting all night and you haven’t said anything! That’s not like you at all. You usually don’t shut up.”

“She means that in a good way,” her husband said cautiously.

Iwaizumi snickered. Oikawa gently slapped his arm. “You’re supposed to defend my honor!”

“What honor?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Oh, come on!” his sister shouted. She looked between Oikawa and Iwaizumi eagerly. “Tell us already!”

Oikawa’s mother was smiling sweetly. “We have been waiting patiently, dears. It’s been three weeks since the magazine came out.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “The magazine?”

“ _Magic Man_ ,” Oikawa’s sister said, like Iwaizumi was an idiot. The siblings had that tone of voice in common. “The one with that big interview?”

“You mean that stupid desirable wizard thing?” Iwaizumi asked. “I didn’t read it.”

Everyone in the room looked like Iwaizumi had just punched them. Except for Oikawa, who Iwaizumi could not get a read on.

“Uncle Hajime,” Takeru said, his eyes wide like an owl, “you haven’t read it?”

All eyes turned to Iwaizumi, who was beyond confused. He was bewildered.

“I just said that,” Iwaizumi said. “Why are you all looking at me like that? What’s so important about—“

Oikawa slid in front of Iwaizumi and began waving his hands like he was denying some horrible accusation. Iwaizumi figured he probably had on that _no problem_ smile that he gave to fans that approached him for autographs.

“It really isn’t a big deal,” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi wished he could see his face. It was easier to tell if Oikawa was lying if he could see his stupid face. “Shouldn’t you all be leaving, hmm?”

Oikawa’s parents looked thoughtfully at their son then back at Iwaizumi.

That seemed to be the end of it. After another round of good-byes, people began to leave. When Takeru and his girlfriend apparated away with a familiar crack, leaving them alone at last, both Oikawa and Iwaizumi let out heavy sighs.

Family was _exhausting_.

They both sat down on the sofa. Iwaizumi watched Oikawa carefully, trying to read his expression, to read his mind, to see what the hell was so important about that stupid magazine.

He could ask Oikawa, but he knew that he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted.

 

* * *

 

The next morning came and though neither of them had work, they woke up early. Every morning, Iwaizumi and Oikawa ran down the streets of Paris. Somehow, it always turned into a competition.

Today, their breath came out harsh and fast, clearly visible in the cool morning air as they reached the end of the run. Iwaizumi was several paces behind Oikawa when their stopping point came into view. Iwaizumi found his resolve, pushed himself just a bit further, and sped up, sprinting past Oikawa towards the end of the street.

They walked back to their penthouse, trading sips of water from a water bottle. Oikawa kept bumping into him as they walked and Iwaizumi knew where this was going before it started.

They took the elevator from the first floor up to the penthouse and walked inside, toeing off their shoes at the door. Oikawa walked further into the penthouse, stripped out of his shirt, and flung it at Iwaizumi’s head with a grin. The shirt was damp with sweat and Iwaizumi grimaced, tossing it off his face. By the time the shirt was gone and Iwaizumi could see again, Oikawa was already in his underwear. His smile was partly flirty and partly smug, like he knew he could get Iwaizumi to do what he wanted.

Damn Oikawa and his ability to strip so quickly, Iwaizumi thought as he approached Oikawa. He wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s waist and kissed his neck; his skin was salty with sweat. Oikawa tilted his head back slowly and let out a pleased noise. Iwaizumi could feel Oikawa’s cock against his thigh, slowly hardening.

Oikawa brought his hands between them, grabbing at Iwaizumi’s shirt as he began to walk backwards down the hall to their bedroom. It took them a while since Iwaizumi refused to stop kissing Oikawa.

(If Oikawa could act spoiled all the time, then Iwaizumi was allowed his moments.)

As they stumbled into the bathroom, Oikawa tugged off Iwaizumi’s shirt. Iwaizumi brought his arms back down and grabbed Oikawa by the face, his palms on his chilled checks that had yet to warm up. Oikawa’s mouth was hot in contrast to his skin, his tongue soft as it pressed out to meet Iwaizumi’s, their lips not quite closing as they kissed long and lewd.

Iwaizumi pulled back just enough to talk. “Get on the counter. Right on the edge.”

Oikawa nodded hurriedly. He quickly dropped underwear, though he took the time to pull off his socks, and jumped up onto the counter between the two sinks. He shivered slightly when the cool countertop hit his thighs, but didn't complain like Iwaizumi expected. He sat on the edge like instructed, stroking himself to full hardness as Iwaizumi ran his hands up and down his pale thighs.

Oikawa had always been paler than him. Not a ghostly white that showed his veins, but still lighter. He spent hours outside practicing, but he covered his skin in pads and robes, and used spells and creams so he did not have any awkward tan lines. Iwaizumi loved watching his own hands, slightly darker in complexion, sliding up Oikawa’s thighs. He liked marking his perfect skin with his lips even more, liked the sounds Oikawa made when Iwaizumi’s lips reached his inner thighs.

Iwaizumi slowly dropped to his knees and kissed Oikawa’s knee and up his inner thighs. Oikawa hummed and ran a hand through Iwaizumi’s sweaty hair. He didn’t even make a comment about how sweaty it was, which meant Iwaizumi was doing something right.

He stopped kissing and dragged his lips up to Oikawa’s groin where his erection sat in finely trimmed pubic hair. Oikawa held his cock still and away from his stomach as Iwaizumi lapped at his balls. When Oikawa's breath began to grow in volume, Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa’s hand away, grasped Oikawa at the base, and kissed up the side of his hard length. 

The next noise out of Oikawa’s mouth was not another soft, pleasant hum, but a ragged breath. Iwaizumi tongued at the head and kissed the dark red skin until a drop of pre-cum dribbled out. Iwaizumi licked the familiar tasting drop as he sucked the head into his mouth. 

Oikawa grasped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. Iwaizumi couldn’t quite take Oikawa down the whole way but he worked what he couldn’t reach with his hand, pulling off a few times to lick at the head and give him long strokes from root to tip. Oikawa moans echoed in the tiled room, growing in volume as he got closer to coming.

Iwaizumi glanced up and Oikawa was staring at him, rapt with lust and love, and Iwaizumi could barely contain the way it made his heart beat.

 

* * *

They finally managed to shower after Oikawa had returned the favor, swallowing Iwaizumi to the root without batting an eye. After dressing, they wandered into the main room of the penthouse. Oikawa sat on the sofa, said he wanted cheesy eggs and toast, and looked pleadingly at Iwaizumi, who sighed and headed to the kitchen.

Iwaizumi cracked several eggs into a bowl, whisked them with some salt and pepper, and dumped the contents onto a hot pan.

“Hey, Iwa-chan, where’s the TV remote?”

Iwaizumi looked up from the pan on the stovetop. Oikawa was kneeling on the ground near the coffee table, looking underneath it. He had a towel wrapped around his neck to catch the drops of water that fell from his hair. Iwaizumi didn’t understand why Oikawa didn’t just charm his hair dry, but apparently the spell made his hair too frizzy.

“Just use a summoning spell,” Iwaizumi replied. He sprinkled a bit of cheese onto the scrambled eggs.

“The last time I did that, we destroyed the closet,” Oikawa said. He sat up so quickly Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think he looked like a dog that just heard a sound. “You cleaned the coffee table before everyone visited. Where did you put the things that were on top?”

Iwaizumi thought for a moment, poking at the eggs in the pan with a spatula. There had been some magazines, a candle or two, and the TV remote on the coffee table. He had shoved everything into a bag and put it into the hall closet.

“I put it all in a bag,” Iwaizumi replied. “It should be in the closet.”

“Can you get it?” Oikawa walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi from behind. “You always put things in weird places. I’ll finish cooking.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “I didn’t start the toast yet. And don’t set the kitchen on fire.”

“Says the man that burned the onion soup last week.” Iwaizumi glared at him. Oikawa smiled, bumped his hip against Iwaizumi’s, and made a childish _go away_ motion with his hands. “Shoo, shoo. Let the master chef work his magic.”

Oikawa took the spatula, poked at the cheesy scrambled eggs, and began to hum to himself. Iwaizumi trailed his fingers along Oikawa’s lower back as he walked away and down the hall.

They had a few storage closets and Iwaizumi could not remember which one he put the bag into. He tried the first one, since it was the closest, and saw a brown paper takeout bag from a fancy muggle restaurant they frequented. He grabbed the bag, sat in the middle of the hall, and began to go through the contents.

The TV remote was at the very bottom underneath the infamous magazine,  _Magic Man_. Takeru had mentioned the magazine. In fact, everyone had been pretty surprised that Iwaizumi hadn’t read it. He didn’t think the magazine was that big a deal. He knew the title came with some obligations, mainly charity events he had to go to, but that was nothing new for Oikawa.

Frowning, Iwaizumi flipped through the pages until he reached Oikawa’s spread. A lot of the questions were fluff-piece questions, what Iwaizumi had been expecting of a magazine that ranked men by desirability. The questions weren’t even in a good order. They were so random, probably pieced together from a larger interview.

Iwaizumi didn’t know why everyone was so shocked he hadn’t read this. If it was that important, Oikawa would have shoved it in his face like he usually did.

Iwaizumi sighed and began to read.

 

 

_I don’t think many people would be surprised to hear you’re at the top of the list this year. I bet your fans are happy._

“It’s an honor! My fans have always been supportive of me. I owe them a lot!”

_Top-level athletes often compete with aches and pains. Is that the case for you?_

He laughed. “I am human, you know. Our team has a really good manager that takes care of us, making sure we ice our muscles or get massages."

_Are the rumors about the French team getting new robes really just rumors?_

“I haven’t heard anything about new robes. I really like the ones we have now! They’re super comfy and really flatter everyone on the team.”

_You’ve had a very long and successful Quidditch career. You’ve been on the team since you were eighteen, captain for the last six years, and you’ve won three World Cup titles—two of which were during your time as captain. Is retirement in your future?_

“I know most Quidditch players retire by the age of thirty, but I don’t plan to retire on my birthday. Younger players can try and take my spot, but I’m stubborn and don’t plan to lose to anyone any time soon.”

_A lot of sports experts say you’re an aggressive player. Do you agree with that?_

“It’s one of my few flaws. But I think aggressive is a bit harsh, don’t you? I take Quidditch seriously and I hate to lose. I think a lot of people can relate to that.”

_Off the Pitch, you’re a model for some big brands. How do you balance your two careers?_

“I don’t think I balance it. Fashion is something I love, but right now, Quidditch and my team come first. I don’t plan to ever fully leave Quidditch for fashion. Whenever I retire from playing, I’ll stay on the Quidditch field as a coach or commenter.”

_One of the reasons you’re at the top of this list is your appearance. What do you think about that, and what do you think makes you attractive?_

“I take pride in my appearance so it’s nice to be appreciated! I have an extensive makeup and self-care routine, which I've shared multiple times. I'm sure my more loyal fans can point anyone who's interested in the right direction!

"That being said, I really think that confidence is attractive. Whether you have scars, or you’re missing a leg, or you have burns, or extra fat on your stomach—if you’re confident and comfortable, that makes you attractive. Makeup and proper care give me my confidence."

_We have to ask: would you ever date a fan?_

“I’ve never given it much thought. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in love with one person. We were apart for a while and I was not in the mindset to even think about dating. Then we came back together and haven’t been apart since. I don’t plan on leaving them so I don’t think it matters if I would date a fan or not.”

_You’re in a relationship? That’s quite a shock! You’ve denied all rumors up until this point._

“All the rumors I’ve denied were about individual people. I never denied being in a relationship.”

_Tell us about her. She must be very special the heart of the most desirable wizard in France._

“They’re a bit dense and oblivious about things—like remembering when we have plans, or telling if other people are flirting with them—but they always see right through me. Without them, I wouldn’t be the person I am. I would have injured myself early in my career if they hadn’t set me straight. Even now, I put a great deal of pressure on myself as the captain my team. If I didn’t have them there to ground me, I would have been lost. They are the best part of me.”

_You sound love struck._

“I am! I love them. I would marry them if they asked. Sometimes I think about asking them, but they would probably call me an idiot and wouldn't take me seriously. We don’t need a label like that, but I wouldn’t mind it…

“I could go on and on about them—ask my team!—but I’m holding back because I don’t think your readers would appreciate me gushing about my partner.”

_You keep saying partner or them. Is it rude of me to ask you to clarify?_

“Oh, I think you can figure it out. Besides, it’s no fun if I just tell you, is it?”

 

 

The interview moved on after that. Iwaizumi stared at the glossy pages, Oikawa’s face moving but the text stationary. Iwaizumi was dense sometimes. His conversation with Takeru proved that, but what he got from the magazine was that Oikawa admitted to being in a relationship. Oikawa practically _came out._

Coming out wasn’t going to break Oikawa’s career—probably. He had won two World Cups since becoming captain and was named the MVP last season. He donated to charities, let kids keep his gloves after matches, and was well liked overall. It had to be done at some point.

But that wasn’t what bothered Iwaizumi about that interview.

Iwaizumi didn’t know how long he sat on the floor staring at that stupid magazine. It must have been a while because Oikawa came around the corner, calling out, “Iwa-chan? I finished breakfast. Did you find the remote?”

Iwaizumi turned his head. Oikawa was standing at the end of the hall, looking at Iwaizumi then down at the magazine in his hands.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then, Iwaizumi said, “Tooru. Why did you say that in the magazine?”

“Say—say what?”

Was Oikawa _nervous_?

“You know that I’m not the best part of you, right?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa laughed. It wasn’t out of humor; it wasn’t the laugh he had before he teased Iwaizumi, or when someone told a really bad joke, or he was laughing at his own really bad joke. It was the laugh he used when he was hiding something. It was the laugh he used in interviews and around people he didn't like.

“Of course I know that, Iwa-chan. Everyone knows I’m the better half of our relationship.”

Iwaizumi stood up, closed the space between them, and looked Oikawa in the eyes. Oikawa met his gaze but there was no resolution there. Oikawa was hesitant and still so very nervous.

“Tooru. You’re a dumb ass if you think I’m the best part of you.”

Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat. A brief wave of hurt flashed behind his eyes because of course Oikawa couldn’t let him finish what he had to say before jumping to all the wrong conclusions. 

“Iwa-chan—“

“The best part of you is _you_.”

After a moment, the hurt disappeared. Oikawa exhaled and then slapped Iwaizumi’s upper arm, hard.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Oikawa said, practically shouting. “I thought you were going to say no!”

Iwaizumi winced as he grabbed his arm. “What the fuck was that for? And say no to what? You didn’t ask me anything!”

Oikawa opened his mouth then closed it. He looked at doubtful when he said, “Iwa-chan. I know you’re dense, but this is a new low if you’re being serious. You _just_ read the interview, and after that big fuss everyone threw at dinner…”

Iwaizumi frowned, completely lost and still pissed that Oikawa had hit him for no damn reason.

“You’re serious.” Oikawa buried his face in his hands and turned around, walking away. “I’m in love with a dense idiot. What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Iwaizumi stared at his back, convinced that Oikawa was just fucking with him. Just to be sure, Iwaizumi went back and picked up the magazine. He re-read the article.

 

 

_You sound love struck._

“I am! I love them. I would marry them if they asked. Sometimes I think about asking them, but they would probably call me an idiot and wouldn't take me seriously. We don’t need a label like that, but I wouldn’t mind it…”

 

 

Everything clicked into place.

Iwaizumi dropped the magazine and ran to find Oikawa.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! I hope you liked it and as always, I would really appreciate any feedback :)
> 
> This is named Magic Man after the band. I wrote 90% of this fic while listening to their 2014 album Before the Waves. I couldn't decide on a single song so I went with the band. Luckily Magic Man sounds like a trashy magic magazine.


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